a little girl with nothing wrong is all alone
I bought a soap dish yesterday. I was in that aisle anyway; I'd gone to the pharmacy because I needed shampoo, and while I was there I decided to acquire one of those little suction-cup-with-a-hook dealies so I could actually hang up my body sponge. And then I spotted the soap dish, a little white plastic affair designed to be mounted to a wall. Its packaging claims it utilizes a waterproof tile-friendly adhesive, which caught my eye, and on a whim I bought it.
The thing is, there is already a soap dish in my shower. Like most showers I have encountered that were constructed in the modern era, it came with one already installed into the tiles. And like in most showers the built-in soap dish, so apparently integral to its design, is in almost exactly the wrong place. Its near the taps which control the flow and temperature of the water, not quite directly beneath the shower head, but close enough as to make no difference.
Consequently any soap that gets left there ends up constantly wet, so that the outer layer turns to goop and the overall mass is eroded anytime someone uses the shower. My roommate Pete, with whom I share a bathroom, makes use of liquid soap, so that's approximately one shower's worth of bar-soap erosion per day. Now a normal, less neurotic person, might not be bothered by a thing like that, but I was.
In my estimation a soap dish has two jobs. Its first job is simple enough: it needs to be a place to put your soap where it won't fall into the tub, so that you can find it easily and not accidentally slip on it. But its second job is, ideally, to allow the soap to dry out when its not in use. This new dish is quite good at that job; in addition to being plastic the dish itself is perforated to allow water to drain out. And I have installed it up high, in the back corner of the shower, far out of range of the shower spray or any reasonable deflection of the spray by a human body.
Yesterday I hung my new soap dish in my shower, and the suction cup hook for my body sponge right next to it. Today I bought a telescoping rod to be installed in the doorframe of the door into my room. But that's another story.
The thing is, there is already a soap dish in my shower. Like most showers I have encountered that were constructed in the modern era, it came with one already installed into the tiles. And like in most showers the built-in soap dish, so apparently integral to its design, is in almost exactly the wrong place. Its near the taps which control the flow and temperature of the water, not quite directly beneath the shower head, but close enough as to make no difference.
Consequently any soap that gets left there ends up constantly wet, so that the outer layer turns to goop and the overall mass is eroded anytime someone uses the shower. My roommate Pete, with whom I share a bathroom, makes use of liquid soap, so that's approximately one shower's worth of bar-soap erosion per day. Now a normal, less neurotic person, might not be bothered by a thing like that, but I was.
In my estimation a soap dish has two jobs. Its first job is simple enough: it needs to be a place to put your soap where it won't fall into the tub, so that you can find it easily and not accidentally slip on it. But its second job is, ideally, to allow the soap to dry out when its not in use. This new dish is quite good at that job; in addition to being plastic the dish itself is perforated to allow water to drain out. And I have installed it up high, in the back corner of the shower, far out of range of the shower spray or any reasonable deflection of the spray by a human body.
Yesterday I hung my new soap dish in my shower, and the suction cup hook for my body sponge right next to it. Today I bought a telescoping rod to be installed in the doorframe of the door into my room. But that's another story.